


A New Year For The Dead

by NinetyNineTails



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Gen, New Years, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinetyNineTails/pseuds/NinetyNineTails
Summary: Hel doesn't celebrate New Year's and neither does Thrasir.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	A New Year For The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the first New Year's following the end of Hel's invasion of the living world and shortly after Thrasir's summoning.

Thrasir scowled at Kiran. "Go celebrate with your strange Veronica and the others. I've lost my taste for it. Hel doesn't mark time and doesn't have years to be new or old."

"You are not in Hel," Kiran said. "You are here, with us, and here we hold New Year's parties."

Thrasir's expression downgraded slightly, from furious to merely scornful. "I choose not to attend, then. Leave me be. Call for me if enemies spoil your party and not at all otherwise."

"As you wish. Though Princess Eir will be disappointed. She did express to me her hopes that you might, at least, watch the fireworks."

Thrasir pointed to the door leading out of her chambers. "Go." Kiran spread their hands in acquiescence, turned, and went. Thrasir watched their back until the door closed to hide it, then dropped her scowl, sighed, and moved to sit at her desk. She picked up a small book, her diary, and fanned through several pages of attempts to preserve memories of Hel she'd found fading after her arrival in Askr. With a small frown as she focused, she took up her writing quill, flipped to the first blank page, and started recording stories of her time shortly after entering Hel's service and of Princess Eir.

Later that evening, everybody enjoyed the fireworks. The Hoshidens, acknowledged masters of celebratory pyrotechnics, had outdone themselves. Even Surtr, having been given the night off from his bodyguarding duties, was seen watching the show with the ghost of a smile. The castle held only a token guard as the fireworks went off, so there was nobody to look and see someone perched on the highest pinnacle Castle Askr had to offer. They sat entirely still for a long while, staring at the distant riot of explosion and color, then looked down, watching the fireworks strobe like ghostfire through the ectoplasm of their hands.

"What is a new year to the dead?" she said to herself, and thought to leave the display and return to her room. But she didn't move. Minutes passed. She stretched out her hands before her, channeled a cantrip, and watched streaks of mageflame rise from her upturned palms and explode into sparks, lighting her face.


End file.
